Temple of Toxicity
by Igorina
Summary: Pollution encounters his onetime opponent in one of his favourite places. Brian x Pollution.


Disclaimer: I own none of the character to be found herein.

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Despite his oddness of dress, appearance and mannerism, nobody seemed to notice the pale, white-clad figure that ambled serenely across the dancefloor and up the ramp that led to the mezzanine above.

This invisibility didn't bother White in the least. Humans so rarely paid much attention to him anyway. Being unseen until it was too late was, after all, one of the many things that helped him perform his function.

Besides, he loved nightclubs.

They were the only place where he was truly embraced by humanity.

The masses might recoil from an oil spillage and shriek at the thought of weedkiller in the water: but here, in these glorious temples of toxicity, they'd cheerfully inhale third hand smoke, needily gulp down their expensive poisons and demand their eardrums be shattered.

Proof, if ever it were needed, that deep down they knew that what they really wanted was to self-destruct. The whole environmentalism thing, in his opinion, was really just really just a shoddy attempt at denial. All he had to do to confirm it was stand here, on the balcony overlooking the main dance floor, and watch as the increasingly tarnished bodies vigorously writhe and jerked in that MDMA inflamed way. He could almost see the neurons flaring and dying as the little pills were swallowed and chalky white powder disappeared up nostrils. It was enough to make him exhale with contentment.

He was so mesmerised by it all that he almost didn't register the tap on the shoulder. However, there was _something_ that prompted him to turn away from the entrancing sight before him and look at the source of the touch.

The person was familiar.

Very familiar.

As the lights flashed and music pounded White scrutinised the young man to his left with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. He rarely recalled the mortals he encountered, his eye always more drawn to the ever-changing play of light on a film of oil than the dull repetitiveness of the human visage, but he recognised this one, sure as acid rain scarred trees.

There are some things an entity doesn't forget and the face of the person that banished them is one of them.

"You're one of _his_ friends, aren't you?" he said, raising his voice above the beautiful, screaming din.

The young man nodded, pupils decidedly dilated. "I'm Brian," he mouthed, smoke-horse voice not quite managing to out-pitch the music.

"You're the one that sent me away," White said.

He nodded again. "Sorry about that."

White couldn't tell whether it was intended as a joke or a genuine apology and a prickling of anger crept over him at the thought of being mocked. However, as painful as his brief exile had been, he wasn't stupid enough to try and seek revenge. He therefore chose to divert his attention back to the chemical corruption going on around him.

Brian though did not display any sign of going away and after a period of about thirty seconds White once again felt a touch, this time on the exposed flesh of his arm.

Once again he turned to the human beside him, this time a tad irritated at having his observations interrupted.

"You're sticky," mouthed Brian, expression filled with the kind of fascination of which only the truly stoned are capable.

White gave an amused smile, annoyance dissipated by the genuine interest being shown. "Perspiration," he said, simply.

The young man's brow furrowed. "But it's oily."

White pressed slicked lips to his ear and dropped his voice to a deep whisper. "I ooze hydrocarbons."

Brian's eyes widened.

"Wow!" he exclaimed loudly as the music suddenly and - from Brian's point of view - inconveniently came to a halt. "You mean you're… you're _self-lubricating_?"

Despite the temporary tinnitus, several dazed looking clubgoers heard enough to give them cause to turn and stare.

White gave a smile that could best be described as calculatedly coy. It was not an expression he wore often, but then, he didn't often interact with people who asked questions like _that_. He then pressed his lips to Brian's ear once again and asked the question that the friend of Adam was both hoping and fearing that he would.

"Would you like to find out?"  
.


End file.
